right a blood feud. Frale done them mean. He lifted his hand an’ killed his friend. Hit war Sunday evenin’ he done hit. They had been havin’ a singin’ thar at the mill, an’ preachah, he war thar too, an’ all war kind an’ peaceable; an’ Ferd an’ Frale, they sot out fer thar ‘still’ — Ferd on foot an’ Frale rid’n’ his horse — the one you have now — they used to go that-a-way, rid’n’ turn about — one horse with them an’ one horse kep’ alluz hid nigh the ‘still’ lest the gov’nment men come on ‘em suddent like. Frale, he war right cute, he nevah war come up with.

“‘Pears like they stopped ‘fore they’d gone fer, disputin’ ‘bouts